Are We Saying Goodbye?
by WVW
Summary: (Post S4) Hayley visits Elijah in France and struggles with the memories only she carries for them now. Will likely continue through season 5 if inspiration hits.


**[A/N: Thought I'd add to the Haylijah works on here because there aren't enough!]**

 **(Fic name comes from a Kan Wakan song of the same title)**

* * *

Hayley compels a local to take her to every establishment that sells alcohol in Manosque, starting with the nicest, until she finds him. She turns to pay the cab driver out of habit but remembers she compelled him for the ride. Klaus's money is for Hope, even though he insists she treat it as if it belongs to her too. On occasion, she did. But this trip was self indulgent and asking Klaus for help hadn't been her favorite conversation, not that she asked for him to cover her airfare or anything. Compulsion was not something she minded about her new life. Utilize what you have. Hayley had only wanted information on how to find his brother. _He's happier now, Little Wolf._ He gave her the name of the city and when she read the text; her eyes brimmed with tears. Of course it was there.

Strings of globe lights are draped around the arched stone entrance, the smell of cigarettes billowing through the side terrace with an exiting group of patrons. A young woman with auburn curls and a carefree giggle is doing a little twirl for her date, showing off an emerald poofy skirt. Hayley glances down and is glad she thought to change in the airport bathroom, shedding the faded jeans and olive blouse for the black chiffon dress Caroline let her borrow.

Hayley lets out a pent up breath as her hand grips the bronze door handle. It's the fourth place she's walked into and she's decided it will be her last until tomorrow. A hotel bed sounded much more inviting than a crowd of pulses lulling her starving bite; much like the pull of a moon to her tempestuous wolf. The flight her heart takes off on is surprising and she almost gives up on it all; the grand plans to spend time with the only man she ever really loved...to say sorry and goodbye to someone who wouldn't even remember their first hello. Maybe Klaus was right, Hope too. Elijah was gone and she was only disturbing their story -their memory, with a stranger. The word settles like ice.

Inside, the room is dim and humming with Parisian chatter, a piano trilling softly in a lit up corner. Hayley scans her surroundings, eyes following cracks in the foundation that splinter the beige plaster walls, showing the building's age beneath the modern decor. She swears her throat closes when she sees him, still as beautiful and prepossessing as in memories.

A waiter weaves around, carrying a tray of clattering glasses as Elijah's eyes flick up from his drink. Hayley freezes. He hasn't seen her yet but he will, even if she turns now to leave. She's right, he sees. They lock eyes and for a moment Hayley swears she notices recognition shadow his relaxed expression. She feels wildly out of place but thanks the powers above and below that Hope had chosen French as her foreign language in school. Hope learned best from teaching what she was learning and Hayley figured it was a win-win for herself. Gold star parenting and learn a language prominent in New Orleans; an easily attainable opportunity which was of course the best kind. Getting kicked out at the age of sixteen taught Hayley a thing or two about grabbing onto anything that could help her navigate this finicky life before it passed her by.

A waiter with a thin nose and bellowing voice tells her she can sit at the bar. "Merci," she replies, maneuvering through the crowd to claim a low-backed stool. Her fingers are trembling; Elijah is only two seats down and a woman joins at his other side. So close and suddenly he seems unreachable. This is painful and her skin dots with nervous sweat. Blood would be great right about now.

Hayley tries to wear an uninterested expression as she watches them under the low hanging pendant lighting running the length of the bar. He's smiling and saying something close to the woman's ear. They're familiar.

Hayley startles when the bartender places a napkin in front of her. She orders a glass of wine because liquor would only make her cry later. She can't bring herself to look at him again, not with the raven haired woman rubbing her hand up and down Elijah's spine. The woman looked as if she could feed an entire country for a month with the jewels glinting off of her fingers and dangling from her ears.

The wine tastes bitter and Hayley remembers this is the kind she hates. She always forgets and usually Elijah reminds her before she orders. Small sips and at least by the third she's caring less about how it coats her tongue and churns her clenched stomach. A melodic laugh carries over his shoulder and Hayley locks eyes with the woman, but only for a second. She's striking and even they way she blinks away is drenched in elegant grace.

Just as Hayley decides it might be time to go sit outside and wallow, the woman turns to leave and Elijah is left alone. He does that side eye thing where he's looking at her but not, hand clasped around an empty glass. It looked like he was about to turn towards her to speak but her phone buzzes on the bar top and causes her to fumble for it quickly. It's Klaus asking her if she's arrived. Hayley let out an audible sigh, realizing she forgot to check in with him and Hope when she landed. Not like her at all, so she's sure both father and daughter are worried.

The phone vibrates relentlessly as Klaus continues to send her an assault of texts before she can send back a reply.

" _Chill out_ ," she growls through clenched teeth as her fingers flew through a text for both of them.

Her attention is snapped back towards Elijah when he stands and follows a waiter away from the bar and to a small table towards the side of the room. It's less crowded there and he's within her line of vision. Haley wonders, as he sits and looks at his wristwatch, if he's meeting someone else here. Maybe this Elijah keeps a lot of beautiful female friends.

The same waiter who led Elijah away returns and she has to really concentrate on his English through the thick French accent. "Would the mademoiselle like to join the gentleman at his table?"

"Uh..." She was really going to have to do better with playing it cool. This was just a lot going on at once and her blood thirsty hybrid body was not having all the extra emotions and change to routine. Did the waiter mean Elijah? As in he specifically asked for Hayley to join him? She looks towards Elijah and he is watching her with a faint smile.

It felt like the longest walk of her life because his eyes never left her as she made her way to his table. She slides into the seat, unsure of what to say so she fiddles with the earring cuff Rebekah gifted her years ago.

He leans forward, sliding the flickering tealight to the side of their small table. Hayley mentally kicks herself for not checking her appearance before coming here. Plane funk and blood deprivation probably kicked that youthful hybrid glow right back over the Atlantic. But, she knows men... and the way he looks at her across the dancing flame as violin music slices gracefully into the silence...

"So," she begins, because she can't stand his penetrating gaze. It's like he can hear all of the racing thoughts dripping like a rainstorm against her skull. "What's your name?"

"Elijah, and yours?"

Hayley bites her lip and decides she can't be Hayley with this Elijah. It feels too much like he is still gone and the whole purpose of coming out here was to remedy the grief she felt in every still moment since he left. But, she still wants to be herself in some capacity, just as he is still himself sans the duties to his family.

"Andréa Labonair." The name feels funny on her tongue so she takes the last sip of her wine and wonders if he can read her as well as he could when they were familiar. If he can, he must know she's scared of every second they inch towards the reasons she came here. She's scared he won't be the same but equally afraid that he will.

He repeats her name as if trying it out himself. Hayley wonders how Elijah looks even more handsome like this, like Carey Grant on vacation or something. His shirt isn't even collared or neatly pressed, though his hair is combed away from his brow and he smiles at her like a damn Disney prince.

Without breaking his gaze, he raises a hand and beckons the waiter like he owns the place. Maybe in a century Hayley will develop the elegant way in which the Mikaelsons command a room. Elijah had always performed with such casual dominance, demanding respect and obedience...but in a way that _didn't_ make Hayley want to roll her eyes. Which was hard for anyone to manage around her. Sometimes she used to think he'd have been a good wolf, though she'd never mention it. Elijah may be a vampire at his core that hides all of his monstrous transgressions behind an ugly red door, but he was worthy of so much more than she had been able to recognize, let alone give to him.

How can it really be too late to tell him she's sorry for giving up on understanding the disgust she felt after what he did to her in the pendant? How can she tell him thank you for the kindness he showed in allowing her to process and grow at her own pace? Now that she understood more and missed the fucking hell out of him, it was too late? Klaus warned her she would only be torturing herself in pursuing this Elijah. _What are you going to do, tell him you want him back and present him with a scrapbook of all of your first dates?_

The waiter towered stoically, hands folded neatly at his pressed apron. Elijah asks her warmly, "would you like to switch to a different beverage or shall I order you another?"

Hayley brushes a strand of hair from where it tickles at her neck and admits, "I think i'd prefer something else. Whatever you're having." He orders two of something in such rapid French that Hayley doesn't catch a word of it. The waiter nods and retreats just as the violin music careens on its last note and a merry group towards the back erupts in laughter.

There's a rhythm to their conversation, just like there always had been. He asked her questions and she responded without giving too many details, making him fish. She knew he was only trying to piece together a story and label for her, just as all people did...just as she was doing with this version of him. She tells him she works with kids who need extra help adjusting in the world.

"Like a social worker?"

"Sure, yeah," she replies lamely. Though the real answer would be more like, _not at all like a social worker_. Maybe she should have spent more time mapping out her backstory on the plane ride rather than binge watching old sitcoms and playing sudoku.

"Admirable work. _Hard_ work," he adds.

Their drinks arrive and Hayley is relieved to see something other than wine. She feels his knee brush her own when he asks, "do you have children of your own?" Hayley freezes and she swears he's inspecting her face, like every movement is under assessment. It makes her fidgety.

Blinking down at the honey hued liquor, she wonders if she should lie, leave all the truths behind. Her throat is tight but she somehow manages to reply in a normal tone, "just one. A daughter."

Elijah is quiet now, peering over his drink as if waiting for her to continue speaking. She doesn't know what else to say. She doesn't know what a stranger would care to know about her teenage daughter and Hayley didn't want to be one of those moms who pulls up her camera roll of kid pics and tells uninteresting stories about the woes of parenthood. When she says nothing he drums his elegant fingers atop the scarred table in one quick movement. Hayley recognizes the mannerism and she nibbles at her lower lip in an effort to hide a smile. He is nervous.

Over the tune of something upbeat on the piano, he asks smoothly but with inconsistent eye contact, "where are you staying?"

"Well, I haven't figured that out just yet. Any recommendations?"

"I hope this is not too forward Miss Labonair, but I have currently taken up residence in a lovely country home not too far from here. It's very spacious, you would have your own room of course."

She wants to nod her head and agree immediately. It _is_ what she's here for. This is exactly what she wanted to happen. But now that she's here in front of him and it's playing out, Hayley's finding that the notion of this being his first impression of her weighing heavily. What would he think of a girl who appears one night without a plan, money, or lodging, and who accepts such an invitation? Better yet, what did she think of him for suggesting it? Was she supposed to believe he was simply being protective over and noble towards a young and clueless woman?

Elijah's hand, cool and damp from his chilled drink, clasps gently over her wrist. Hayley jars under his touch. It has been so long. "I apologize," he murmurs, removing his hand. "It's just that at this time of year the availability of anywhere I would feel confident in sending you is surely scarce."

"I guess I'm not much of a planner," she sighs, blowing a strand of hair from her face. This was exhausting and all she wants to do is fast forward to the part where she's in his arms and the alcohol has blanketed all of this awkward nervousness.

"Start now and plan on spending at least tonight in my home. It's lovely and if you prefer, I can stay with a friend of mine until we find you something elsewhere..." his lips twitch as he cautiously continues, "if the arrangement is found to be disagreeable".

Long raven hair and sparkling jewelry danced around tauntingly in Hayley's mind. If that woman was the friend he speaks of then Hayley is pretty sure it was most definitely now or never. She knocks back her drink, setting the glass heavily between them. Blinking slowly up like she remembers he used to say drove him insane, she says, "I'm way too tired to go hunting for a less serial kill-ery kind of offer so, yeah. Thanks."

The grin that spreads on Elijah's face is almost unrecognizable. He snuffs out the tealight wick between forefinger and thumb, replying, "I myself entertained that very idea about you, but something tells me we shall both survive the night." She ducks her head. He still thrust butterflies into her belly with the way he looks at her; like he sees something that's invisible to every other person she's ever met.

Hayley feels herself warm in places that Elijah left cold long ago. God she missed him.

* * *

 **Reviews appreciated!**

 **Hit that follow button and stay tuned for more. This won't be long but I will continue this into season 5 to satiate my (your?) Haylijah needs if inspiration strikes. Another few scenes to go and then i'll place this on hold until season 5 stirs some Hayley and Elijah feels for me (hopefully not feelings of rage, though this season isn't looking so hot for Hayley).**


End file.
